


The Cure For Nothing

by Fool



Category: The Reconstruction (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, BTF, Character Study, Fix-It, Gen, Mental Illness, POV Third Person, Tragedy, death mention, rbtp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 15:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10539531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fool/pseuds/Fool
Summary: In an alternate universe where Qualstio's parents didn't join the Wracked, he decides to pay them a visit. Set after "To Sanctifel".





	

“I still don't think this is a good idea.”

“Story of my life, man,” Sicious quipped, pulling his hood tighter. It may have been eleven years, but he couldn't be too careful. Burning down a seat of power was something people _remembered_. He used to take pride in that, and, if he was going to be honest, he still did – but right now, it did present a bit of a problem. “But I gotta do what I gotta do.”

“Of course.” Ques' face wrinkled in that special way that only Sicious could evoke. “I will never understand the youth of today.”

“Pfft. You're only older than me in cat years, furball.”

Ques slowed. “ _What..._ ” He spoke not with the disinterested, arrogant clip of his normal speech, but with a sharp and deadly coldness. “...did you call me?”

Sicious glanced over his shoulder, genuine bafflement on his face. “Oh sorry, did I touch a nerve? It was just a joke, man.”

A towering figure bumped into him roughly. “Sorry. Musta lost my sense of humor with my last hairball, _worm_ ,” Lani rumbled darkly.

“Wha… 'worm'?” Sicious rankled. “How does that even make sen – _ow!_ ” He yelped as Lani pinched his face.

“'Cause ya got no fur.” Her voice was guttural, predatory. “Yer just all pink and squishy, like a worm. _Worm._ ”

“Stop this.”

Lani's hands immediately returned to her sides, as if pulled there by a string. Dehl's voice had that effect.

Dehl had already made it to their destination, but he paused to look at each of the group in turn. “We have been together for nearly a year now. We are _companions_. We are beyond this. There is no need to stoop to these… slurs.” Lani and Sicious shamefully bowed their heads, but Ques just scoffed.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “we're here. Let's get out of this accursed cold.”

Most buildings in Fortifel were inordinately ostentatious; Sicious said the people made up for the dullness of their natural environment by splattering color wherever they could. Sanctifel's asylum was no exception. An ornate carpet textured in shades of purple and lavender spread across the large foyer, coming to rest at the foot of a wide wooden desk. Wood was a pricey import here, in the land of blasted rock and glass, but even in this the Fortians would not be content with anything but the best: the desk was a dark mahogany, rich and veined, and lacquered to a mirror finish. The ceiling and walls, however, were starkly white, absent of the murals and tapestries that had adorned Metzino's abode.

The waiting room was empty; they had gotten here ahead of everyone else, after all. A clerk raised his head and looked at the group expectantly.

Sicious tugged at his hood again.

“Remind this _furball_ what we're doing again. You said you needed my ID,” Ques said flatly.

“Keep your voice down!” Sicious hissed.

“Ah yes, because a hooded stranger whispering in a corner is definitely less suspicious. Did you think any of this through–”

“Here's what you're going to do,” Sicious said, ignoring him. “You're going to walk up there, and you're going to ask to see Amalia and Emidio Qualstio.”

Dehl gasped. “Your parents? That is who you wish to visit? Why did you not say so?”

Sicious paused, and looked at his feet. “I… I kinda want to keep this on the down-low. The others… I don't want to worry them about this.”

“Then you shouldn't have brought them along,” Ques said, flicking a glance at Lani, who was tapping her foot impatiently. “But – your _parents?_ Even with such an… _impenetrable_ disguise…” His voice dripped sarcasm as he looked over Sicious' borrowed cloak. “...such a query will raise suspicions immediately. Attracting the attention of the guard will...”

“This is also why I didn't want to tell you!” Sicious hissed. “I know it's risky, but _I don't care_. This is why we're here, and I'm not leaving until–”

“Wait,” Dehl said, his soft voice silencing Sicious instantly. “I thought we were here to clear the trail. To help the caravan...”

Qualstio rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, our good deed for the day. But the _real_ reason was so we could get here ahead of the rush. Don't worry, afterward we can get outta this godforsaken place.” Dehl looked down, melancholy.

“You keep saying 'we',” Ques said. “Yet it seems this has all been _your_ decision, and yours alone, Magus, seeing as you saw fit to keep these motives from us.”

“…I thought we were helping them…” Dehl muttered.

“We were,” Ques said with a dark glance at Sicious. “Don't listen to the magus, Squire. He does not speak for us. _You_ do.”

Sicious threw up his hands. “Okay, okay, sorry! Yeah, this was kind of my own thing. I just thought, you know, we're a team, right? We help each other out?”

“...Of course we do,” Dehl said after a momentary pause. He looked to Ques. “Ques, this is very important to him. Please do as he asks.”

Ques bowed his head. “As you wish, Squire. But…” He glanced at the empty hall. Guards stared at them while shifting their spears in a politely threatening way. “If this ends with us burning the place down, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'”

“Mm. Noted.” Dehl stood. “Let us not tarry any further, shall we?”

The cloud of guildmates dispersed instantly at his approach. Ques advanced to the desk while Sicious hunched by the side.

“Ah, welcome to Sanctifel,” the clerk said brightly. “Are you all together…?”

“Just us three, for now,” Ques said. “We would like to see Amalia and Emidio Qualstio.”

The clerk's eyebrows shot up. “Ah, Qualstio? That is a name I have not heard in a while. May I see your identification, sir?” Ques dutifully pulled out a small card from his vest. “Oh!” the clerk said after a moment, and beamed. “I didn't recognize you, Lord Mahesto! It is an honor to see you here!”

“Ah… yes. Thank you,” Ques said. “Then, may I…?”

“Oh, of course, I will get you the address immediately!” the clerk said, already rummaging through a drawer. “Your servant will be accompanying you as well?”

“I am no one's servant.”

Like everything Dehl said, the sentence was calm, measured, and polite. But it also gave the distinct impression the speaker was trying very hard to keep these things true, and that he could stop trying if you stopped giving him a reason to.

A weight settled on the conversation. The world seemed to stand still for a moment.

“But yes,” Dehl continued, “I will be going with him.” And like that, the weight was gone.

“Right you are, sir, right you are,” the clerk said, more quietly. He rifled through the files again. “And the young man…?”

“Oh, me?” Sicious piped up in an accent that did not exist anywhere, but which he probably thought sounded Nalian. Ques fought the urge to facepalm. “Uh, Ah'm just a friend of Ques', here...”

The clerk looked up and stared at him curiously, then whispered conspiratorially, “Is he always like this?”

“You have no idea,” Ques said flatly.

The clerk laughed politely. “I see, I see.”

“But do not worry. He is with me.” Ques spoke as if he were reading his own death warrant. “I will take–” He winced. “– _full responsibility_ for his actions.”

“Ah… very well,” the clerk said. “You are a bit of an odd bunch, if you do not mind me saying so, but, ahah, this is Sanctifel… ah…” His expression turned grim as he fished a file out of the desk. “You asked for… _Emidio_ Qualstio?”

“Yes,” Ques said.

“Ah…” The clerk's brow creased. “I regret to inform you that this individual is deceased.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Sicious exploded. Everyone jumped at the outburst. “No… no, they couldn't have–!” He thumped his hands on the desk. “You're… you're lying! When? What? How–?!”

The clerk backpedalled and glanced meaningfully at the guards. “It is true, sir! The files say he died two years ago. He had a cancer…”

Sicious vibrated like a spring, teeth clenched. Where he gripped the desk, wisps of smoke started to rise.

Suddenly Dehl grabbed his shoulder, and he froze.

The smoke stopped, and something broke behind his eyes. The hardness he had only moments before gave way to hollow despair. Slowly, Sicious deflated, curling in on himself as he crumpled to the floor.

There was a long pause.

“Ah, but…” The clerk swallowed, and glanced down at his papers. “The other Sanctifellian you asked for, Amalia Qualstia, she is still alive. One of the guards will escort you momentarily.”

Sicious jumped up immediately, eyes wide. “Yes. Yes, that would be… good. Thank… you.”

“Ah…” The clerk peered at him. “Forgive me, sir, I did not get your name…?”

“Uh.” Sicious froze for a moment, then relaxed. “Metzino!” he said, and beamed a little too brightly. “You know that Keldrin guy? Distant cousin.”

“Yes, and we'll be going now,” Ques said before the clerk could respond, grabbing Sicious roughly. A stone-faced shra moved in front of them, and began leading the way through the cramped corridors.

“You didn't even come up with a name?” Ques muttered after a while. Sicious just grunted.

“I must confess to some surprise,” said Dehl. “Why was Ques permitted? He has no relation to, ah, to the Qualstios. Are they not concerned he might do something… drastic?”

“Nobody cares,” Sicious said leadenly. “Nobody cares about Sanctifellians. He could murder everyone in the block, and the guards probably wouldn't even notice. As long as you're not, like, a wanted criminal, they'll let you through. Even if you have wanted criminals in tow, apparently,” he finished darkly.

Ques looked at the guard nervously, but if he overheard them, he didn't react. They were led up to the second floor and into an austere hallway of identical doorways. The guard led them to one, undid the chain, and waved them through.

The room inside was not as austere as the rest of the building would suggest. It lacked the adornment of the other houses in Fortifel, but it was still a spacious room with an inviting-looking living area. Leather chairs ringed a smooth, polished stone table on which some knitting materials and untouched game sets were placed. Heating pipes ringed the walls, and glass windows – barred, of course – overlooked the snow-swept landscape outside.

A gray-robed woman sat at the table, repetitively knitting a small strip of cloth. She wore a serene, dopey smile, but her eyes had a vacant look to them that implied she was only halfway paying attention to the actions of her hands, if even that. Her hair was a muted auburn, streaked here and there with white as it tumbled down her back and shoulders in messy curls. Her face was strikingly similar to Sicious', but she was pale as a ghost, and the onlookers thought at first she lacked an eyepiece – but on closer inspection, they saw it was merely clear, uncolored glass, not the vibrant red of Sicious' own.

An orderly gently shook her shoulder as they approached. “Amalia, your visitors are here to see you now.” The woman looked up before returning to her stitchwork, expression unchanged.

“Get out.”

The orderly looked into the cold pits of Sicious' eyes, and immediately wished she hadn't. She swallowed, and valiantly tried to mount a resistance. “Sir, we have to stay here in case–”

“ _Get out!_ ”

The orderlies didn't have to be told again. They flew out of the room as if their feet were on fire. The last one had the presence of mind to close the door.

Amalia looked towards the retreating figures. “Ah? The nightingales, they are flying, they are leaving… ah.” Her eyes unfocused again.

“Subtle,” Ques deadpanned. “They're going to call the guards, you know. I _knew_ this was going to be a disaster.”

For once, Sicious didn't rise to the bait. He only walked forward, slowly, as if the woman was going to vanish at any moment, and extended a shaking hand to her face.

“Mother?” Neither of his companions had ever heard him use a voice so soft. It cracked slightly in the middle. “Mama? It's… it's me. Do you remember me?”

Amalia tilted her head curiously, and seemed to focus on something just past his head. “Orrrr… ange. Orange. Fire, sun, light.”

Sicious laughed suddenly, a loud, manic, bubbling laugh. “Ye-yes! I'm orange! That's right, Mama!”

Ques looked at Dehl for purchase, but the shra wasn't looking at him. He walked towards the Qualstios with an uncertain expression.

“I… I know I haven't visited in a really long time, Mama. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't… I'm sorry I missed… Papa, did he really…” His voice broke as he trailed off into shuddering sobs.

“The earth is calling us.”

“I should never have let them take you. I'm… I'm so sorry. I tried, but, but they were too strong, Mama. They threw me out. I'm s-sorry.”

Amalia's expression grew serious, and she nodded gravely. “The green becomes yellow, then gray.”

Sicious looked pained for a moment, then smiled weakly. “But I'm strong now, too! I joined this guild, and it's full of all these great people, and we'll be big and famous one day, Mama, just you wait and see!” He wheeled suddenly, and grabbed Dehl by the arm. “And – and I want you to meet them! Look, Mama, this is Dehl, he's my friend, he, he helped me when I moved to Wadassia. Look at him, Mama!”

“Qualstio…?” Dehl said, expression puzzled. Amalia turned her gaze on him, focused and unfocused at the same time.

“Blue,” she said clearly. “Water. Ocean, river, stream, flowing. Sky…” Her speech became more slurred with every word.

“See?” Sicious said, beaming radiantly. “She can see your magic! She's not dumb, she just… she's just having a bit of trouble!” He turned back to her. “Hey, Mama, I'm strong now, so you don't have to wait anymore! I'm going to get you out of here, what do you think?”

“...So that's why you really came here,” Ques said from his corner, but without malice. “I should have known.” He stepped closer.

“Oh, Mama, this is Ques. He's a bit of a fuddy-duddy. Don't worry about him.”

“Purple,” Amalia intoned as she stared at Ques, then shook her head sadly.

“Huh, you're a mental?” Qualstio said, in a tone closer to his usual banter. “I guess… yeah, that makes sense.”

“Not here,” Amalia muttered. “Still not here.”

“Magus…” Ques spoke with uncharacteristic softness. “I understand your pain, but… we cannot possibly care for your mother on our own. If she can _see_ magic, then… there is no other explanation. She has…”

“Complete thauma-cerebral entanglement, I know.” Sicious held his mother's hand gingerly. “The magic got into her head, and there's no way to get it out. I know. But…!” His voice cracked again. “That doesn't mean they can just lock her up like she's – like she's garbage! If I'm with her, if she can focus on something familiar, maybe that'll do… do something! I don't know…!” Sicious clutched at himself and held back sobs.

“Silver spoon. Rock salt. One for you and one for me.”

It was quiet for a while. Amalia returned to her knitting, humming softly.

Eventually, Dehl laid a hand on Sicious' shoulder. “Qualstio, I am… so sorry. I understand why you acted as you did.”

“I still want to… finish the job,” he muttered. “Burn it all…”

“Wait, what?” Ques interrupted. “Acted as he did…” His expression turned to disgust. “Is this why you burned Faithall?!”

“Ha. Ha ha.” Sicious rose and turned, slowly. His face burned with cold fury. “You want to hear a story?

“Once upon a time there was a nice, normal family. Better than normal, even. They were in the running for councillord seats, they were so brilliant. But they were too good, too innocent, to know what that meant. They were too smart for their own good. They were a _threat_. Because you see, our dear Physical Councillord, he wasn't councillord then. He was in the running too, but he knew he couldn't beat them fairly.” Sicious' eyes flared. “So he _cheated!_ He… did this to them! He drove them mad, tried to throw them to the Wracked!” Then he grinned, all teeth. “But he forgot their little kid! _Everyone_ forgot the little kid! Nobody listened to him, nobody believed him–”

Ques rolled his eyes. “This is ridiculous–”

“–and Fetrano thought he'd take it lying down!” Sicious barreled on, undeterred. “Thought he could just stuff him in a state home and lord it over him! So on _his_ day, on his precious inauguration, _I burned_ _it all down_ _!_ ”

Behind him, Amalia flinched at the noise. Sicious swept his arm out to her, oblivious. “You see now, Ques? This is what happens when you get in the way! It's all corrupt, down to the very core!”

“Oh, _get over yourself!_ ” Ques shouted. Sicious was taken aback; he wasn't expecting that. “I can't believe… No, I _can_ believe you're really this selfish! The government tries to deal with this tragedy the only way they know how, and you make up this… this _conspiracy_ –”

“'Conspiracy'?!” Sicious shrieked.

“Everyone, please do not raise your voices...”

“Yes, _conspiracy!_ Where's your evidence for this, this – _lunacy?_ ”

“The hole at the center of the world!” Amalia offered.

“Well it was awfully convenient for him, wasn't it! And you've seen how he treats Metzino, he's not above this! He must have used some spell–”

“ _There is no such spell!_ ” Ques roared. “If we understood entanglement that well, we'd be able to cure it! You… Did you even look at the statistics? This happens to pureblood Fortians _all the time!_ But because it happened to you, you think that gives you the right to _kill people?!_ ”

Sicious' retort died in his throat, his mouth hanging open.

“Find the traveler, and bid him return. This told must not be forgotten.”

Slowly, purposefully, Sicious raised his hand and extended a finger. “I didn't kill anyone,” he said, emphasizing each word.

“Over a dozen were injured in the fire,” Ques hissed through pursed lips. “Three more died of their wounds in the following days. You mean to tell me you did not _know_ this?”

Sicious stood frozen, his expression slowly shifting to horror. “N-no… I was holding back…” He dropped his eyes to the floor, and let his arm fall slowly. “I never – I didn't mean to…!”

“Oh, so that's all right then!” Ques spat. “You only threw fireballs into a crowd! How could that have _possibly_ gone wrong?” Ques threw his hands in the air. “God – you say you're twenty-six, and I still can't believe it. I may only be older than you in ' _cat years_ ', but at least I don't act half my age.”

Sicious didn't raise his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he said, very quietly.

“The earth portends this, and all things.”

The doors burst open.

“You will be leaving now, or we will be arresting you now.” The guard smiled, all teeth.

“We will be leaving now,” Ques said.

“We will be leaving now,” Dehl agreed, grabbing Sicious by the arm.

As he stumbled away, Sicious looked back, hoping to see something in his mother's blank eyes. Some glimmer of recognition, some flicker of consciousness. He raised one arm, feebly, and hoped against hope that he could reach her.

“Orange? He is leaving again, leaving… Oh, oh, oh.”

Then the guards cut across his vision, and she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> In case your memory of an 8-year-old game is a little fuzzy, my account of Qualstio's crime isn't actually canon; this is merely my own interpretation based on the information we're given.


End file.
